Drive a Couple More Nails in the Wall

I can't believe that crowd let me have the minty Ruger 10-22 for $165. It has a black unwood stock, so  I can't believe how tactical I feel. 

The Marlin-Ballard in average-minus shape  brought $775, and buddy and I both passed. He was in at $750 and welcomed the overbid.

That Mossy was a nice  46 bolt, tube-feeder. Good Mossbergs are edging up;  this one brought about  $200.

Best for last:  A girl I know  caught me sleeping and snuck a 10-inch cast iron mermaid into her tucker bag for $16. It took a good deal of flattering banter, reminders of past favors, and a $20 bill, but I recouped the situation, and Miss M now sits coyly on a prominent shelf, right next to the Walker Cherub pit log. 

Boosting the lethality index

My most recent  economic development stipend  has been lying idle for weeks now, shirking its duty to circulate and stimulate.  I may fix that this afternoon, assuming the dole is enough to buy a "Marlin-Ballard  32 cal single shot rifle Pat 1861" in open auction. There is a problem. My buddy Bill probably wants it too, and we have an agreement not to bid against one another.  I don't think, though, that I ever promised not to put a reliable and quick-acting poison in his coffee. 

Sheer nonsense...

...but we're getting used to that from President Obama.

I'm having a hard time believing, however, that the world media is letting him get away with "the sheer improbability" characterization of the Normandy beachhead victory.

If the odds against success were that heavy, someone in the chain of command would have ordered  or loudly and publicly counselled the abort. Someone like Marshall, Eisenhower, Bradley, Smith, Montgomery, Ramsay, Leigh-Mallory, Devers -- y'know, all those old white guys who had to run a war without benefit of several years experience organizing neighborhoods on the south side of Chicago. 

Whatever their faults, generals and admirals  do not launch attacks on the world stage  where defeat is a sheer probability.  All who have written of Overlord from a military standpoint concede it was  very  risky (duuhhh) and casualties would be heavy. But all considered victory on the beaches and beyond quite likely.  Mr. President, may I politely challenge you to cite any source with more credibility than, say, Bill Ayers, to the effect that  the Allied Powers believed they faced sheerly improbable chances of success?

I make an issue of this, Sir, because many people tend to believe what a president says, no matter how  dense the fecal content. These things also get printed in the books, and I share with some other eccentrics a quirky little interest in keeping  our history as  tidily accurate as possible.

Vivid air, signed with honor

It is one of the patriotic days, and I suppose you'll hear a certain amount of  oratory, some praiseworthy, some self-serving.  

An unlucky guy may find himself stuck with one of those neocon-right warriors of the lectern. They demand we send our kids  to war to create "democracy" in every populated desert waterhole  and jungle clearing on earth.  It is always instructive to stop them in mid-rant and ask:

 "Sir (or Madam), please, where and when did you wear the fighting uniform?"  Amazing how many of the loudmouth warhawks found  actual service simply too inconvenient.

Otherwise this D-Day, I intend to reread the Noonan/Spender/Reagan tribute. 

Wise Latina

Roberta laps me in the  Sotomayor discussion.  The name Linda Chavez should have popped up in  +this + blog  within seconds of the Wiseass Latina's nomination to Scotus. If His Obamaness wanted an actually  smart Latina for the court, Linda is there for the appointing. 

(Linda should have been secretary of labor and later a  United States senator.   Running afoul of the nanny laws was  probably pretty much her own fault, but the clowns counseling her in the the Mikulski race need shooting.)

It's nice to have her around as a writer, but  it would be even better to make her the first Latina Supreme Court justice. Unburdened with a law degree, she possesses a nice sense of the Constitution as a mechanism for forbidding government to engage in tyrannical practices.  

Are you listening, Mr. President? Bush withdrew Ms. Harriet Whosis.  You can withdraw Sra. Sonia.

Barrack of Arabia in Germany

President Obama has sounded the call for peace between Isrealites and  Palestinians, so  breathe easy Americans as you  try to ignore your  two nagging suspicions:  First, that The Obama did  not advance a single idea that has not been promoted by every U.S. president since Kennedy. Second, that the Obama message reduces to: 

1." I agree there should be two nations in the area.

2. "Everyone should  play nice.

3. "I'm from Washington and I'm here to help."

The Obamillac

I leave it to smarter men to reconcile  President Obama's pledge to reduce unemployment in the auto industry while simultaneously cutting 21,000 jobs at GM, of which he is now 60 per cent owner and bankruptcy receiver-in-chief. 

It's easier, and more fun, to visualize the results of Obama "revitalizing and remaking" GM and the rest of the American auto industry, though I think Johnny Cash beat me to it.

The headline and lead cry of "exposed corpses" littering Mingora in  this AP piece on the Pakistan fighting.  If you care to follow though by reading the entire report, you'll discover the  charnel house image is  is justified by exactly three bodies -- two of them apparent "insurgents" lying in a cemetery. The facts as reported could just as easily justify a screaming headline about  slothful Pakistani gravediggers.

---

There is no vast media conspiracy, of the left or of the right. But there is a chamber pot full of miserably non-professional  journalism, and you really hate to see it appear so often  on what was once one of the world's great news services. 

The writer of the three-corpse trash was engaging in a venerable newspaper practice -- reaching for a  gee-whiz headline. We've all done it, but the AP pros  are, or were,  damned careful to make sure the body of the report lends some credence to whatever glorious -- or gory -- image is conjured up in the lead.

Oh come on!

A Roman Catholic  priest can cancel his vows and go cavorting with women. But such a hot priest can not, repeat not, be named "Father Cutie."   Someone has designs on our credulity. 

Idly posted...

While waiting for the  caffeine to kick in:

I just learned  "Magic Jack" is new phone system.  

For the longest time I thought it was Obama's economic program.

 

In Memory of Travis McGee

"He will wonder whether he should have told these young, handsome and clever people the few truths that sing in his bones.

"These are:

"(1) Nobody can ever get too much approval.

"(2)  No matter how much you want or need, they, whoever they are, don't want to let you get away with it, whatever it is.

"3) Sometimes you get away with it."

Travis didn't write that. Neither did his amanuensis. But we can thank Trav for telling John D. to use it on the theme page of "Free Fall in Crimson."  And John Leonard for writing it in "Private Lives in the Imperial  City."

Christmas in May

Our man in the GMA on Day Two: ---  Saturday dawned bright and clear, like that's unusual around these parts.  Let's see, go back to the NRA convention or do chores around the house?  Decisions, decisions.  Oh, a-go-ny!   Many more people on the train this morning, and a festive air was, uh, in the air.  It was more like a fan bus on the way to the Big Game.  I don't know what the two fellow travellers in our car who weren't People of the Gun must have thought.  Perhaps the governor's statement last night that the banquet was the largest meal ever served in the state (6,000 plus) might have influenced them somewhat.    This time there WAS a stampede to the convention center, but inside things ran infinitely smoother.  Although there was easily four times the crowd the lines moved more than twice as fast.   Since I foolishly left my sticker at home I had to re-register.  Six minutes, tops, including the time I spent in the wrong line to get a permanent badge, something I'd forgone yesterday as the line appeared to stretch well past suppertime.  Today it took me longer to thread the lanyard through the badge holder than it did to get it.  I think the forecast (threat?) of attendance on the far side of 60,000 might have inspired a certain degree of efficiency on the parts of all concerned.  The upshot was that, as opposed to yesterday, the lines fairly flew.   Back into the hall, and I swear to God that it had grown overnight.  It didn't seem possible, but it was BIGGER!  The safari bookers were here, I remember, but where did all these accessory vendors come from?  (And not one booth selling jerky. )  I could have sworn that I'd at least lapped the building once the day before but I kept encountering new surprises around every turn.  But, the PEOPLE!  My land, what a crush.  And the geezer contingent was vastly outnumbered by every other demographic imaginable, and some that weren't.  Still, a more polite and considerate mass of humanity you're not likely to encounter anytime again soon. I particularly enjoyed the family groups, especially the ones where mom, shouldering an AR carbine, asks her husband, "Honey, do you think I'd like this?" (See, J..?  It isn't just in Texas!)  I still could have done without the guy in the kilt, though.   But I hadn't forgotten my mission.  I managed to collar a suit wearing a media badge and asked him where the media room was.  (I'd learned yesterday that asking for "blogger row" was worse than futile.)  He seemed stunned - perhaps this was his first rodeo - and said that he thought it was room 211.  Well, that's more than I had to go on this far, so out and up I went.  By accident I discovered the media in room 122.  Hey, lysdexic much?  There was one sole soul there plugging away who allowed that Breda hadn't come in today, but if I'd leave my number he'd see what he could do.  Fair enough.  Back down into the fray, until that was a fair description of what my nerve endings were doing.  There was a "Guns of the Battle of the Bulge" presentation at 2:00 but by then I was wondering what I could learn that I hadn't already seen on the History Channel so I just bagged it for the day.  Wouldn't you know Breda called when I was halfway to Tempe so there was nothing to do but wish her well and to give Chris and Kevin my regards as well.  These people have their nerve, going out and enjoying the convention instead of staying put and clickling chiclets.  I was even going to give them my autograph.   That's about it.  I didn't see any of the big names, not even from a distance, and even with a Benefactor badge that I was given by mistake.  For that you have to be one of the Yellow Jackets, I believe, but then I didn't go there for that.  I mean, I like Ted Nugent and all, but I'm not waiting all day in line just to say howdy and how ya doin'?   Observations?  Wow, I just don't know.  Off the top of my head I'd say that everyone with a milling machine except Harrington & Richardson and Daisy have an AR for sale, with everyone agreeing that Ruger made a mistake by trying to enter that market.  (BTW, wait times on the above poodle shooters are 6-8 months from everyone.)  Speaking of which, that .380 from SR is almost too small to believed, and their new pocket revolver is about the same weight as a silk scarf, which gives me pause.  Aimpoint had the only booth babes in the whole show, if you didn't count the Dillon calendar girl.  Oh, and somebody must be buying Judges from Taurus, because they now offer about twelve different ititerations of it.  And it just struck me that that was about the only firearm there not offered in pink.  Yet.  This year.   Tomorrow, I don't know about.  Might, might not.  I have two swag bags with about thirty pounds of catalogs and whatnot each already, and don't know what else I could get other than footsore.  Gaze at John Garand's Garand?  (SN 1,000,000)  Check out the original brass Gatling, perhaps the only gun for sale in the whole hall?  Dunno.  Maybe I should soak either my feet or my head and wonder how uncounted wealth has avoided me so successfully.  But, damn, those camoed SARs are *sweet*.  Do I really need two kidneys? -- (I feel the need to call attention to my friend's increasing compassion  and sensitivity as he approaches his mature years. I knew him  in the days when he would have wondered if his Best Friend needed two kidneys. ED)

Stalking Breda

I have the honor of friendship with a gunny in  what we generally refer to as the Greater Mesa Area,  which includes Phoenix.  Upon my application, he has granted permission to relay in this  forum his adventures among the convened clingers:

---

I played hooky yesterday with my boss's permission to go to the toy show.  I soon found myself on the electric danger train downtown with every retired greyhair in the GMA.  "Great," I though, "I'm on the Geezerville Express."  To my complete lack of surprise we all got off at 3rd and Jefferson.  The herd shuffled rather than thundered to the convention center and the beginning of festivities.  (Well, truth be told, the true Inner Circle was feted the night before, but my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.)   Things were kicked off by hundreds of us milling about in the lobby to no apparent aim or movement.  The logjam broke briefly enough for some of us to de-escalate one landing down, where the cause presented itself: The fire marshall thought there were too many people trying to get in, so rather than, oh, let us IN and spread out, chose instead  to pack thousands of us into every-shrinking holding pens.  My inability to discern the reason for this no doubt explains my failure to obtain greatness in life.   Eventually Common Sense and momentum overcame bureaucratic inertia and my portion of the herd was permitted to enter, descending into what appeared to be unbridled chaos.  It later appeared that there WAS signage, there WERE orderly lines, there WERE uniformed cheerful volunteerd, but all were overwhelmed by tsunamis of humanity.   The line I eventually found myself in didn't so much move as glaciated.  I suspected women were giving birth in it at a greater rate than the standees were being processed but I eventually found myself at the front, where I was registered in approximately three nanoseconds, whereupon I was duly tagged and released into the wild, my endowment ribbon flapping the refrigerated breeze, and hastened to the exhibit hall.   Oh.  My.  Gawd.  Martha, back up the truck.  Acres and acres of machines that turn money into noise, and all of it free for the fondling.  It you tarried to long in your admiration of some bauble the factory representative behind the counter not only encouraged hands-on fondling but nigh-onto insisted upon it lest his corporate feeling be hurt.  Well, okay, if you insist.  Lather rinse repeat for hours upon hours, to the point of sensory overload and muscle fatigue.  And that's just the new stuff.  The historical exhibits were hands-off, naturally, but were astounding all the same.  Smith & Wesson pre-war semi-autos.  Walls of Winchester model 52 variations.  One was devoted solely to Luger carbines.  I longed for a mirror to see if my Hickitude was showing.   Later in the afternoon I began to weary, not so much from the sheer magnitude of it all but from my thwarted quest to merely say "Howdy" to the one-legged Cleveland librarian blogger who managed to get her prothesis aboard an airliner despite the best efforts of PSA.  Also, my feet hurt.  Hey, my badge is good all weekend, right?  I'll try again tomorrow. (To be continued)

Missing Smokey Joe

I'm not much for  ain't-that -nice nostalgia  but in this age of  the Regal Obama  I liked ths one:

"When Dave Beckwith was in fourth grade, he delivered newspapers to businesses and the government housing near the airport in Pierre, South Dakota. One afternoon he was pedaling toward the airport when he hit a pot hole, crashed his bike and spilled the newspapers all over the highway. 

Embarrassed but not hurt, he got up and started gathering the newspapers when a black limousine slowed to a stop, and a man got out of the back seat to help.

"Are you OK?" He asked as he began assisting Dave. The kind man stayed long enough to help Dave pick up the papers and make certain that he was OK.

Dave couldn't help but notice his license plate number when he drove away: "1." South Dakota Governor Joe Foss...".

(Who flew Mustangs, not Unicorns.)

Quick, Warn Yogi!

The AP today quotes this guy: ""Families should not have to stare down loaded AK-47s on nature hikes,."

And that is how Brady Campaign president Paul Helmke understands the process of reasoned debate.

His step-ins are so tightly knotted this time because the Senate has just heavily approved allowing you to carry, loaded, in your national parks.

Besides, Paul's wrong. There are all kinds of families that should be staring down loaded guns -- in Yellowstone, Jellystone and elsewhere.

(This is not a done deal. The Guns 'n' Geysers bill is a rider to the Credit Card Elimination Act that liberals love, and it still needs to clear a conference committee.)

EDIT: Check that note on the conference committee. The Obama is so anxious for the credit card bill he has set a deadline for tomorrow, so the House leaders say they'll just have reps vote the Senate version up or down.

Redneck Esthete

I intended to leave the auction as a more lethal man, but the Lee-Enfield went too high. So did the c. 1895 hammer-double wall hanger. Then the crowd went to sleep and I tucker-bagged "Nine Travelers -- Canada Geese," a 1977 Maynard Reese production, for $40.  I'll take deals like that any day.

Sunday Morning Sidewalk

Not that I have a sidewalk, and I certainly don't wish I was stoned.  Guess I just liked the song  from the days when it was fashionable to have  a bad case of   young-guy angst.

A Sunday run around the top of my blog list shows Roberta's going shooting, Tam's trying to figure out what the Hell Ruger is up to (me too); Xavier is shooting more than respectable Black and White, one of Abby's sergeants won a promotion to staff.  

Me? A nearby  auction this afternoon offers to escalate my lethality potential handsomely.  The stunningly pretty (and stupendously ignorant  and disorganized) girl who writes up the auction ads  promises

 "...military bayonet; 36x50 Bushnell scope; British Enfield 303 gun w/sling; 12 ga. shells; gun books; dog tapestry; hunting clothes; 2 tanned deer hides; pheasant afghan; Arctic Cat ladies jacket sz. medium; camp stove; rods & reels; manual ice auger; deer tree stand; deer decoy; life jackets; skiis..." 

There's more gunny stuff in other paragraphs -- Mec. 600, lots of 7 1/2 shot. Not to mention several largish tools I might covet. The conclusion is that I need to take the old F150 to this  one, not the wimpy little van.

I love small-town auctions. I might buy the Lee-Enfield, but more likely I just enjoy watching a couple of clowns bid it up into the high three figures.

New ammo source

To become a more lethal American, clean out your car and pickup. My take:  couple hundred .22 LR;  three 9mm hand loads that look more or less like my 115 gr. JHPs usually stoked to c. 1150 fps;  couple of rounds  .45 ACP, GI issue; handful of miscellanous brass; old tin of Daisy BBs (genuine, destined for the collectibles box -- trade stock).  The little tools I've been looking for since 2007 were just a bonus.  

Tam says:

"Meanwhile, General Motors is announcing a joint venture with Frito-Lay..."

And if those ten words aren't enought to justify a month's net connect cost I'll kiss your arse in Detroit  City Square and give you an hour to alert the remaining city residents, if any.

(Some kind of  warning would be nice, though -- just a headsup to swallow the rest of that mouthful of Coke.)

If God doesn't weep, he should

The Holy State of Iowa spent yesterday ablither and ablather about the  human suffering  of one year ago when ICE busted a few hundred illegals for being illegally hired by a big-time entrepreneur in the kosher meat racket. He's a real jerky sort, but that's another story. (You can learn more than you want to know by googling Postville Raid.)

The lead hand-wringer seemed to be  a Prince of the Church, who thusly spake:

"As proclaimers of God's word, it is our duty to sound a call for justice. It is our privilege to welcome the stranger," Archbishop Jerome Hanus told a packed interfaith service at St. Bridget's Catholic Church. "It is our challenge to bring good news to the poor. This, my friends, is our time. This is our moment. This is our year of favor."

It happens that I have some fairly personal experience with a couple-three bishops. One of the salient facts is that, all by their pious selves,  each scarfs  enough deep red and luxuriously marbled protein a day  to keep two or three third-world families alive.  So one assumes Archbishop Hanus is already routinely exercising his privilege to welcome the stranger. I picture him joyfully sharing his personal table with the sad victims of  The Great Federal Raid .  In fact, I'll just betcha that day and night he strides the back streets and alleys of Postville and Dubuque, filling his limousine several times a day with poor and downtrodden strangers, taking them to his heart, his personal  table, his spare bedrooms. Surely his private  actions are Christ-like as his windy archbishophorical rhetoric.  

Important Note #1:   We have nothing all all against  religion in general  or any of the sane denominations, do we? But we can all identify  pretentious, self-serving, self-righteous, hypocritical  bullshit, can't we?

Important Note #2: Despite being ledeth into temptation, I was very careful to avoid the dropped-letter typo as I pecked out Jerry's name.  

The Gentle, Selfless Liberal Tradition

In 1896 William Jennings Bryan declared we would not crucify mankind  on a cross of gold, whateverthehell that actually meant.  Then he went on a victory* tour and by 1899 was commanding huge fees. Interesting that his terms were somewhat illiberal, though not  surprising to those who have made a study of the hypocrisy of the sanctimonious  left.

Never mind that U.S. currency was gold-backed in those days. 

Kum Ba Yah.

* He was celebrating only his personal celebrityhood, a wiser population in those days denying anything more to the demagogic rabble rousers.

 

Saddendum on Obama's Latest

 I forgot to castigate the press for the way it  presented this farkheaded attack on several centuries of English Common Law and American Constitutionalism.   The lead AP item contains  15 paragraphs.  In the 13th 'graph it finally mentions Obama's belief that you ought to be guilty until you can prove your innnocence.  A real sense of proportion there, AP. 

Irony: Impossible

His Obamaness  this morning will propose new common-sense tax laws to ensure that businesses make smaller profits and keep a smaller proportion of what they do make.

That seems reasonable enough to me and all of my like-minded colleagues who correctly  understand  business as the natural enemy of the noble poor as well as of decent, compassionate citizens everywhere.

Just one little thing, though. Obama's designated leakers tell AP:

"...Under Obama's proposal, Americans would have to prove they were not breaking U.S. tax laws by sending money to banks that don't cooperate with tax officials. It essentially would reverse the long-held assumption of innocence in U.S. courts."

You may recall the President last week vowed to replace Souter with someone sharing Obama's "core Constitutional values."

A Moment of Moderation

She shuffled around in in the road, eyeballing both my cabins, copying the  number of my single mail  box, and generally looking too interested in the  acre that is Camp J. Finally she came to the door to ask my address. Public information, so I told her. Then she asked the address of the other cabin. "The same, why do you ask?"

"I'm with the government. I'm mapping for the census." She showed me a badge-like gizmo.

I nodded, gave it some thought, and permitted her to leave uninjured., badge, data, authoritarian demeanor and all.

Back to the Future, Part 3

You should go meet Xavier if you haven't already. There are simply too few humans of such  impeccable taste and sensitivity.

Item:  He understands the sublime qualities of the 1911 (and the closer to JMB's original the better).  Not too uncommon among the bangnoscenti, but still praiseworthy. 

Item:  More important, he is installing a what he calls a "split prism" focusing screen in his electrical Nikon. In my day we called it a split-image screen, but who can get  hair-splittingly picky about minor matters of nomenclature when a certified  technocratic competent decides he will, by gawd, sometimes focus his  nukey image zapper MANUALLY!?

There is hope for America.

This paean was partially  conceived as an excuse for me to tell you all about the glorious Nikon F, but a couple of posts down from his split-image entry, X  already did that. He omitted only the truth that the Nikon F,  loaded  with Tri-X, marked the point at which photographic technology could have stopped dead  without the slightest disadvantage to the visual arts and sciences. And if that ain't solid-gold truth I'll kiss your butt  in front of   George Eastman's statue and give you an hour to conjure up the ghost of  Weegee. 

 

The Language of Leadership

His Obamaness says this morning: "...the threat of spreading swine flu infections is matter of concern but 'not a cause for alarm.' (AP)

Taking us back to the Clintonian conundrum of the meaning of "is."

Plastic Dreams

His Presidency is  meeting with credit card  titans -- the black hearted, child-eating pisspots spawned in the in fetid swamp and  nurtured  by the undead priests of the Spanish Inquisition. I think Obama actually believes something like that about them. Funny, so do I.

The Obamaness, however,  is about to screw things up again by pandering to what his constituents really want -- Plastic with unlimited credit; a Visa whose repayment terms are, "When ever you get around to it, ol' Buddy."  They really think it's possible.

A little history lesson is useful here. Perhaps 30 or 40  years ago a small Midwest state was enduring one of those periodical plagues of high populism.  So the moonbat governor and his leftie  legislature  wrote an excruciatingly detailed law about what credit card issuers could and could not do in the state.  Within months consumer credit all but dried up, and if you wanted a Diner's Club card you had to move to  Illinois or Minnesota  or some such hellhole.

The law was quickly (and all but unanimously)  repealed,  and once again rubes could make their  own decisions about how to use credit.

I don't suppose, though, that His Hopefulness will pay much attention to things like that. After all, he's giving us a New Beginning. 

(There are ways for Joe Sixpack  to beat the credit card bastards at their own game, and the  results are  better than anything Barney Frank could dream up to enstatuate. )

So Ahmadinejad got pissy enough to clear the hall of  all  the western white guys. Isn't it pleasant to think that we saved ourselves some travel and per diem money by not sending anyone to the UN's  Geneva  conference on racism in the first place.  

We simply must  rein in that  Ahmadinejad guy. Let's get really tough and report him to the UN.

Waterboarding the English Language

AP Headline:  "Economy Declining but Recession Abating."

Eh?

Sure, there's a way to defend the Dali-esque logic of that,  but only for Econogeeks who keep a copy of Samuelson on their night stands.  It probably means that  the economy sucks and will continue to do so but isn't sucking  badly enough  this week to meet whatever offical definition of "recession" Geithner is using these days.

I think the writer was simply obeying an old cub-reporter notion that obscurity is a sure sign of a subtle and profound mind. Good copy desks killed crap like that immediately. The crusty old fart in the green eye shades probably would have changed it to   "You're Still getting Screwed, Only  Slower."

(Ms. Whiskbottom in Standards &  Practices would have bowdlerized it a bit.)

 

Need calories!

Idyllic weather graced my part of the world today, and I took full advantage. The John Deere 318 earned its keep pushing huge piles of oak leaves. I added some muscle, some seed, and some lawn fertilizer in an effort to make up for a couple years of yard neglect. I don't expect any horticultural awards, but it makes me feel better.

And hungrier. I finally decided on scratch spaghetti,  and if I can't eat about two and one-half pounds of it I'll kiss your arse in front of the Washington Monument and give you a half-hour to assemble a congressional fact-finding panel to watch.

An American Dream

Three hundred miles east of the Somali coast, pirates attack and capture a cargo ship flying the Stars and Stripes and manned by Americans. The word spreads, and the U.S. Navy  sternly warns that it is aggressively trying to decide what to do. In Washington, the Obama White House is issues two press releases, one  reporting that the President will monitor the situation and another confirming that he is bravely  monitoring the situation.

Meanwhile, 20 America merchant seamen aboard the  decide they don't need no steenken Navy, nor White House either. They  arose  like the spirit of John Paul Jones to capture the pirate leader and send his fellow sea thugs scampering.

Spot news reports this hour say that is exactly what is happening, give or take a few trivial nuances. So may we honor our private enterprise sailors above all.  This is the stuff of legend. 

We might also kill a little time  writing to the Pentagon and the White House. Tell the fellows that we possess a navy and its commander-in-chief for reasons other than handwringing indecision. I mean, like, we ain't French.

EDIT: Looks like one of those nuances is the captain bobbing about in  a small boat, hostage of the three pirates who got away.

 

Lift dat barge, Uncle.

Why in Hell do we do all the heavy lifting?

STRASBOURG, France (AP) – European leaders pledged at NATO's 60th-anniversary summit Saturday to send thousands of soldiers and police to train Afghanistan's army and secure its coming elections, but they shied far from matching America's pledge to dispatch a large number of new combat forces.

Mr. Obama, Are You Listening???

Disclaiming, I find the idea of homosexuality repulsive.*  Nevetheless, that Iowa court decision justifies itself with one simple statement that hasn't a damned thing to do with sex-- homosexual, heterosexual,  horizontal, vertical in a hammock, or intergalactic. 

The Iowa court wrote in its summary decision: "The court reaffirmed that a statute inconsistent with the Iowa constitution must be declared void even though it may be supported by strong and deep-seated traditional beliefs and popular opinion."

Eat more corn, just out of gratitude.

---

*The same does not necessarily apply to all homosexual people.

Report from Brokeback Hog Lot

Hoo boy!  Are you guys going to be hearing a  lot about Iowa. The Heart of Bucolia Supreme Court has just made gay marriage legal. 

Hawkeye land becomes the fourth* state in the nation to legalize it. Probably making  gays even gayer, Iowa is (wrongly) perceived as the most conservative Bible-belty kingdom this side of  Alabama, and the gays believe if it can happen in the corn fields  it can happen anywhere.

See? Iowans can do something besides turn dimwits into U.S. presidents.

EDIT: Surprising absolutely everyone,  the court decision was unanimous.

*EDIT 2: Strictly speaking,  Iowa is the third -- accompanied by Connecticut and Massachusetts --  rather than fourth . The Proposition  Eight  fight technically returns California to the man/woman-only standard.

How scared should we be?

I'm not going to live-blog the President's  speech,  but I'll offer you the first quote I heard a few seconds ago. He says of the auto industry: "Our  (White House)  evaluation  is now  complete."

If that doesn't scare Hell out of you,  you and I do not share even the slightest similarity of thought processes.

I wonder what Mr. Obama and Mr. Biden will decide to evaluate next. 

Fargo

Y'all remember when G.W. Bush caused Katrina in New Orleans because he hated minorities. That was a few days  before he ordered the government to be real cheap about free debit cards, free trailers, free hotel rooms, and free what-all  that the victims deserved. A whole lot of them were entitled  and deserving --  as far as I could tell -- mostly because they pissed and moaned a lot. Surely not because they displayed an abundance of character before, during, or after the hurricane.

---

Right now folks in Fargo, North Dakota, are facing a record Red River crest, a flood which the word "catastrophic" does not over describe. They're confronting it at the tag end of  a week of brutal labor in freezing weather by ordinary citizens, officials, and their National Guard. They're  filling and humping sandbags, moving stuff out of the likely wet places, and generally trying to take care of themselves. 

Fargo Mayor Dennis Walaker sets the tone by telling the national media "We don't want to go down, but if we do we'll go down swinging." You often hear such stuff  in this part of the world where bunches of unpussified people living in the same town consider themselves part of a "community."

And that reminds me again of how badly I wanted to turn New Orleans over my lap and  give it a damned good spanking. Still do, but then I'm routinely accused of harboring extended grudges against candy-ass whiners.

Fargo will apply for the usual federal disaster money when it's all over. But they won't accuse the new President of making the river rise because he hates non-minorities. And they won't defecate all over the floor of their  public shelters while demanding that President Obama hurry up and make the river go down.

Good luck, Fargo.   

Torching the Beemer

It's fraud and I can't defend it, but is there the slightest moral difference between what these guys are doing and what AIG, GM, and Chrysler did? 

I'll Say

Obama economic advisor Christina Romer says we  are in an economic war.

Agreed, Chrissie, and I propose we  call it the American 233-Year War. Productive  citizens versus the Government.

Getting Rattled?

The new President fields criticism of his $786 billion economic plan by citing 25 new police officers in Columbus on a day when 651,000 February layoffs were announced.

There's a  sense of proportion for you.  

Say we learn that Iran has an A-Bomb and a delivery system. Obama says yabbut he has cleverly prevented Fiji from going nuclear. 

 

Infant development

Y'know, I'm not sure the new president knows his toes belong to him yet.

How's that again?

"It's just tragic, that based on the guns that are on the streets, that three young men have lost their lives today," Chicago Police Supt. Jody Weis said.

I defy anyone to parse that sentence for linear logic. 

I suppose he meant "because of" rather than "based on." It would be just as bone-headed, but at least it would illustrate that Chief Jody is up to the demands of constructing a simple declarative sentence.

Heeeeeere they come again

Southside Chicago: Three teenagers killed in a gang war, and the responsible party is an "assault rifle."  The newspaper leads varied from "an apparent assault rifle" to "at least one assault rifle." But the dreaded words were always in the lead, usually also in the headline. 

In a better world reporters would follow up with a few salient facts:

-- Unregistered "assault rifles" are already illegal in America.

-- Guns that look like assault rifles are already illegal in Chicago.

-- The shooter possessed whatever kind of gun  it was illegally unless he had an Illinois Firearms Owners Identification Card. Any bets?

-- The shooter had an uncased and  loaded rifle in the car, and that's already illegal.

I know TMR readers already know this stuff, but it's offered as a handy guide for instant education of the hand-wringers you may know. We might also ask them to explain why some new gun law would dissuade such shooters. 

Steel yourselves. The left is in national  control, and the gun-ban media are anxious to bang the drums for any placebo that appears to "do something." 

Financial Management

Writing that latest post reminded me that it is cheaper these days to drill a hole in a penny (and sometimes a nickle)  than it is to buy a flat washer. I believe that will answer whatever other questions you may have about the American economy.

Bra Straps

Sometimes I think we need to suspend the First Amendment as it applies to the advertising industry.  

In a single 30-minute jabbermercial, some outfit is creating a brand new trauma for the world's  women, to wit, unstable bra straps sometimes slip and reveal to an aghast world that the lady does, in fact, use suspension. Clinical depression ensues.

The solution to trauma is a revolutionary piece of plastic about the size of a half-dollar with a couple-three slits and holes. If Ms. America can control her sobbing hysteria long enough, she weaves her straps into it, slips it up or down, and in a moment of pure magic becomes the Belle of Gloccamora, perfectly yet invisibly  cantilevered for just $19.95 plus $5.95 S&H. Call now. Have your credit card ready.

It doesn't take many spazz decisions like that to eat up the mortgage money.  

(Gender equity nod: Don't even get me  started on Extenze or howeverthehell you spell it.)

There are obviously enough insecure gullibles to make these pitches profitable. They are allowed to vote. Ditech loaned them McMansion money.  That should take care of most of your questions about the economic meltdown.

Obama's Economic Succubus

The Christian Science Monitor this morning offers a calm, measured analysis of the Economic Disaster Plan. It notes that the immediate effect is the tax credit boosting the average weekly pay check by $13, and...

"The hope is that taxpayers will react to the new cash, however small it is, by temporarily adjusting their opinions of how much money they make, and spending accordingly."

There it is. My  income is not a datum. It is an opinion. Or sort of, y'know, like a feeling or a vibe. So off to this singles bar I know; sidle up to the two hottest chicks in  the joint. "What color cars you girls want?"

Well, Suntory IS pretty good

Poor old Shoichi Nakagawa showed up stinko at a news conference and was forced to resign at Japan's finance minister.

Seems a bit unfair. As P. J. O'Rourke remarked in a similar situation, "We let Ted Kennedy vote in the Senate all the time."

Milestone

“We’ve passed the most comprehensive sweeping legislation as it relates to economic activity, ever, in a three-week period of time,” White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel told reporters ... (Bloomberg).

And that statist (&^)()&*^^&%) said it as though it was a good thing.

The Cost of Freedom

The Sioux Falls show is a big one.  For what it's worth:

--The $2,000 price range for issue 1911s and A1s is bringing them out of the safes. Saw more at this show than any I can recall for years.  So-so examples are offered around $1800 very nice ones around $2,000 up to one good 1911 at $3,000.

--The actual value of an M1Carbine is anyone's guess. Today's range was $750-$1250 with no apparent correlation of maker, condition, etc. to price.

--WW2 webbing is going out of sight --pistol belts $30 and more. .45 pouches $10 plus. A humdrum-shape canteen with cup and cover at $55.

--Mossberg .22s are drawing a little collector interest at last. One two-table dealer specializes in them. 

--All the Winchester 22s from the 1930s-50s seem to be gaining a little value. 

--Otherwise we didn't notice much gun-price movement compared to early 2008. Economic problems are apparently outweighing the Obama-driven rush to buy.

--EDIT: The comment just above ignores whatever might be happening to EBR prices. We just don't pay much attention to them. 

Loopholing

It is by official decree of His Majesty's Government  both a sniper rifle and an assault weapon, fully capable of modification to accept a silencer.

Or, as the Brits called it in 1941, a "sound moderator." 

Winston's plan was to issue  the Winchester 74s to the able-bodied in coastal counties. They would lay low as the German invasion wave swept over them, then emerge in the Nazi rear -- take the image any way you want -- to wreck general havoc. Some 74s  were equipped with "No.42 straight scopes"  and the government freely admitted they should be employed by citizens for assassinating Wehrmacht  officers and "important administrative officials."

More on this noble use of one of the excellent little .22 semi-autos here. Dandy site, by the way, for  research on several civilian rifles we sent to Albion when she needed them. 

Anyway, the pretty one that got loopholed*  in Dakota Territory today joins a twin brother in the rack, and the guy who bought it says he's now damned well ready to defend liberty against any heathen hordes of left-wing gophers.

---

*Decent citizens rightfully despise gratuitous verbing,  but the the blooming idiots on the left have made "loopholed" and its derivatives  both useful and graceful. 

 

Blooming idiots

I'm too old to cry, too BTDTish to be surprised. But I'm fully capable of anger when I read crap like this. Give a cop a gun and he hands you a rose and a cheap gift  card on Valentine's Day.

And everyone says  wow, what a neat thing to do, New-Age-wise.